Louise Vine stood trembling in her own room, listening till she heard
the door close, and Duncan Leslie's step on the gravel. Her agitation
was terrible, and in place of being clear-headed and ready to act in
this emergency, she felt as if her brain was in a turmoil of contending
emotions. Indignation on her brother's behalf, anger against Leslie for
his announcement, and another form of anger which she could not define,
struggled with a desire to go to her brother's help, and at last she
placed her hands to her head and pressed them there.
"What shall I do?" she panted.
"Louise, Louise, my child!"
It was Aunt Marguerite's voice, and there was a sharp tapping on the
panel of the door after the handle had been turned.
"Louise, my child, unlock this door."
She made no reply, but stood with her hands clasped together, listening
to the sharp voice and the quick tapping repeated on the panel. Both
ceased after a few minutes, and Aunt Marguerite's door was heard to
close loudly.
"I could not talk to her now," muttered the girl. "She makes me so
angry. She was so insulting to Mr Leslie. But he deserved it," she
said aloud, with her cheeks burning once more, and her eyes flashing, as
she drew herself up. "My brother--a common thief--the man who injured
Mr Van Heldre! It is not true."
She started violently and began to tremble, for there was a sharp
pattering on her window-panes, as if some one had thrown a few small
shot. Would Duncan Leslie dare to summon her like that? The pattering
was repeated, and she went cautiously to the window, to make out in the
gloom a figure that certainly was not that of Leslie.
She opened the casement with nervous anxiety now.
"Asleep?" cried a hasty voice. "There, stand aside--I'm coming up."
There was a rustling noise--a sharp crack or two, a hand was thrown over
the window-sill, and, panting with exertion, Harry clambered in.
"Harry!" cried Louise in alarm, for his acts, his furtive way of coming
to the house, and his manifest agitation did not suggest innocence.
"Hush! Don't talk aloud. Where's the governor?"
"Father is at Mr Van Heldre's." Harry drew in a quick spasmodic
breath. "And Aunt Marguerite?"
"In her room. But, Harry!"
"Be quiet. Don't talk. Let me get my breath."
Louise stood before him with her hands clasped, and a flow of agonising
thoughts seeming to sweep her reason away. All was confusion, but above
the flood there was one thing to which she clung--Harry was innocent.
In spite of everything in the way of appearance, he was innocent;
nothing should turn her from that.
"Well," he said suddenly, "haven't you anything to say?"
There was a savage vindictive tone in his voice which startled her more
than his previous threatening way.
"Yes; where have you been? Why do you come back like this?"
"Where have I been? Up on the cliffs, wandering about among the rocks,
and hiding till it grew dark and I could come home. And why did I come
home like this? You know. Of course you have heard."
"Mr Leslie came, and--"
"Mr Leslie!" cried Harry with a mocking laugh. "Save us from our
friends."
Louise's sympathy swung round on the instant to the side of the
attacked; and, hardly knowing what she said--
"Mr Leslie came to bear some terrible news, and to offer to help you."
"To help me!" cried Harry, with the eagerness of him who catches at
straws. "And you--what did you say?"
"I said the information was false--a miserable invention. And I repeat
it. Harry, it is not true?"
He made no reply for a few moments, while, sobbing and terrified, Louise
clung to him.
"Harry," she said excitedly, "why do you not speak?"
"Don't talk to me," he said hoarsely, "I'm thinking."
"But, Harry, I laugh at Aunt Marguerite's follies about descent and our
degradation; but it is your duty to make a stand for our father's sake.
Who has dared to accuse you of all this?"
"Don't talk to me," he said in an angry whisper, as he ran to the window
and listened, crossing the room directly after to try the door.
Louise gazed at him in a horrified way, and her heart sank down, down,
as her brother's acts suggested the possibility of his guilt. Then,
like a flash of light, a thought irradiated her darkening soul, and she
caught her brother's arm.
"I know!" she cried.
"You--you know?"
"Yes, I see it all now; and why this charge has been made. It was Mr
Pradelle."
"Pradelle!"
"And that is why he left so suddenly. Harry, my poor brother!"
"Let Pradelle be," he said huskily. "I'm not going to hide behind
another man."
"Oh! But, Harry!"
"Look here," he said uneasily; "I want your help, and you do nothing but
talk."
"I will be silent; but tell me it is not true."
"Do you want me to make matters worse by telling some paltry lie?" he
said. "Yes; it is true."
"Harry!"
"No: not all true. I did not steal that money."
"Ah!" ejaculated Louise; and she reeled to her bed, and would have
fallen but for the post she grasped.
"I've no time to explain, but you must know. Yes; I did knock old Van
Heldre down."
"Harry!" she groaned.
"And Crampton saw me come away; he has sent for the London police; and,
unless I can get off, I shall be taken and tried."
Louise literally tottered towards him.
"No, no," he said angrily. "You are going to talk and preach. You
don't want to see me disgracing you all by being cast in gaol?"
Disgracing them! Louise's first thought was of Duncan Leslie, and a
pang of agony shot through her. How could she ever look him in the face
again? A chill that seemed to paralyse shot through her. The hope that
she had nursed was cast out, and her brother's word seemed to open out a
future so desolate and blank that she turned upon him angrily.
"Harry!" she cried, "this is not--cannot be true." He paid no heed to
her words, but stood biting his nails, evidently thinking, and at last
he turned upon her like one at bay, as she said, after a painful pause,
"You do not answer. Am I to believe all this? No, I cannot--will not
believe it, Harry. It can't--it can't be true."
"Yes," he said, as if waking from a dream. "One of the lads would take
me over in his lugger. St Malo; that would do. Louie, what money have
you?"
"Then it is true?" she said.
"True? Yes; it's true enough."
"Then you--oh, Harry, for pity's sake--Harry!"
She burst into a wild fit of sobbing.
"That's right," he cried savagely. "I came to you for help and you go
into hysterics. There, unlock that door, and get me something to eat,
and while I'm enjoying myself, you can send Liza for the police."
"Harry!"
"Then why don't you act like a sensible girl? Listen; nobody must know
that I have been here; not even the governor. I'm going to steal down
to the harbour by and by; and I shall get Joe Lennen or Dick Paul to
take me over to France. If I stay here I shall be arrested, and
disgrace you all. There never was such an unlucky fellow as I am.
Here, once more, what money have you?"
"Very little, Harry," she said; "about three sovereigns."
"Has aunt any? No; she must not know that I'm here. Louie, you must
let me have your watch."
"Yes, Harry," she said, as she stood before him, cold and striving hard
to master her emotion as a mute feeling of despair attacked her.
"And you'll help me, won't you?"
"Yes, Harry," she said, in the same cold mechanical way.
"Let me have your chain and rings, and any other trinket that will fetch
money. Must have something to live upon till this trouble has blown
over. You see I am penniless; I am not a thief. I shall soon get right
again, and you shall have all these things a dozen times over." She
suppressed a sigh. "Be quick then--there's a good girl! I've no time
to waste."
Louise moved across the room to the drawers, and took from the top a
small rosewood box, which she placed upon the table. Then taking her
watch from her waist, she was in the act of unfastening the chain, when
there was the sound of a closing door below, and her father's voice,
sounding loud and excited, as it called her by name.
Volume 2, Chapter IX.